


On the Agenda

by anaer



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Asexuality, Humor, Lust, M/M, Romance, Sex-positive ace, Sexy Times, valentine's day fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:25:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9695594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaer/pseuds/anaer
Summary: Cloud and Squall have a schedule.  For sex.orSquall is ace; Cloud is not.  They make it work.Strifehart V-Day Week: Lust





	

“I’m not that into sex,” Squall says to Cloud.  It comes out of nowhere, sudden and abrupt, halting their conversation dead.  He’s not quite meeting Cloud’s eyes, glancing off a little to the left at what the blonde is sure is a truly fascinating view of the restaurant’s back wall.  It has nothing to do with the truly riveting debate they’d been having about the societal impact of Triple Triad, and whether the new, updated version of the game had ruined it any, but in context, it makes sense.  And explains so much.

This is their tenth official date.  There hasn’t been so much as a conversation between them yet about exclusivity or the “boyfriend” terms, but Cloud wasn’t seeing anyone else to begin with.  Squall more or less seemed in the same boat.  They spend most of their free time together now, anyway, but every time Cloud has gone to initiate something more – sometimes at the end of a night out, sometimes sitting in the living room relaxing – Squall has brushed him off with an easy smile.  Cloud, horny as Squall gets him, figured the younger man wanted to take it slow.  This is…unexpected, to say the least.

“Oh,” he says. 

Squall meets his eyes, brows furrowed.  He doesn’t say anything, just stares, expecting more.  When it doesn’t come, he asks, “Oh?”

Cloud nods.  He’s not sure what to say, exactly, but he doesn’t want to mess this up. Squall is the first person Cloud’s been interested in in a long while. It’s not as if he’s been having sex on the regular anyway, bad decision trysts with Reno not included.  (Seriously, he hates the redhead, it was a thing that definitely needed to stop – and then Squall came along.) 

Squall still seems to want some kind of response, so Cloud says the first thing that pops into his head, which is, “I hear masturbating builds muscles,” because he’s kind of an idiot sometimes. 

Squall snorts, and the tension is broken.  Cloud cracks a smile, too, because that was pretty funny.  He’s known to be that on occasion.

“I’m not saying never,” Squall explains further.  “Just…if you want to, I’m going to need some prior warning.”

Well, that seems fair.  “How much warning?”

“A day or two.”

A day or two.  “So…a day or two from now, do you want to…?” he trails off.  Squall rolls his eyes, and Cloud hopes that’s a yes.   Otherwise, he doesn’t know when, exactly, he’ll be getting laid next because planning for when he’ll be horny a day or two in advance is a little outside his skill set. 

“I’ll text you a time,” Squall says, and that’s the end of that.  Just like that, they resume the conversation with Cloud continuing to insist – wrongly, Squall points out – that Triple Triad’s integrity has only grown with the addition of rules like “Sudden Death” and “Reverse” and it doesn’t reflect some grand moral failing of society.   

It’s some weeks later when the topic comes up again.  This time, they’re sitting at home, sprawled out on each other on the couch watching shitty romance movies – Squall’s place because Cloud shares with Tifa and as much as he loves her, she does not know the meaning of the word privacy.  Cloud’s legs are kicked up on the coffee table, and Squall’s hogging the rest of the couch, laying out with his head resting on Cloud’s lap, brown hair spread in a tangle over Cloud’s leg. 

Squall shifts slightly, but Cloud pays it no mind.  He shifts again, which catches Cloud’s attention because his boyfriend is not prone to shifting during movie night.  He is generally a rock – unmovable, heavy and slightly annoying when it comes time for Cloud’s inevitable bathroom break.  Not tonight, though.  Pale blue eyes glance up at him out of their corner, and Squall opens his mouth to say something, seems to think better of it, and then closes his mouth and turns back to the TV. 

“What?” Cloud asks after this happens a few more times.  It’s distracting him from the movie now, which is a shame because he is very invested in finding out if Fang is going to confess her feelings to Vanille or lose the love of her life to nunhood forever. 

“Nothing,” Squall says.  A few beats pass, and then, in a minorly put out tone, “Your dick keeps knocking into my head.”

Cloud turns red. He has been steadfastly doing a noble job of paying no attention to his particular pants problem.  Some things, it seems, just don’t want to be ignored. 

“Sorry,” he says, because this is actually quite pleasant, really, and he’s been trying hard not to make Squall uncomfortable. 

“It’s whatever,” Squall replies, blasé, which is so completely Squall that Cloud can’t help but laugh.  “It’s just…” he trails off, staring up at Cloud with a frown on his face, and that is a problem because Cloud has zero idea what is on his mind at any given moment.  Especially not on sappy movie night – every Tuesday without fail, per their unofficial date schedule courtesy of his overly organized one and only.

“Yeah?” he prompts.

This time, Squall’s the one who turns red.  “Well, it’s been a few weeks, and we’ve only, you know…had sex the one time.”

Cloud’s not sure he’s understanding what his blushing boyfriend is getting at.  He picks up the remote and pauses the movie.  This is definitely going to distract him from Vanille’s torrid affair with the church.  “You said you’re not that into it,” he says in reply. 

“Well, clearly you are.”  Squall shoots Cloud a flat look, and then nudges Cloud’s hard-on very deliberately with the back of his head, which makes the blonde squeeze his fist tight into the fabric of the couch arm, biting down on his lip to stop the noise that tries to produce.  Squall, the asshole, isn’t blushing anymore.  He just looks amused.  “And I didn’t say not at all, I just said give me some warning,” he adds.

“Not cool,” Cloud finally manages. “Also, I can’t plan that far ahead.  I get horny in the moment. If you’re ever magically in the mood, then sure, I’ll be down for it, but it’s not like I’m going to die if I never have sex with you again.”

Squall looks strangely impressed and a little bit relieved.

“Besides,” Cloud adds a second later, “look at all this muscle I’m building.”  He flexes his arms because his muscles really are quite impressive, he’s a pretty strong guy despite his somewhat lacking stature.  Squall is now staring in disbelief and rolls his eyes.

Cloud grins and then hits play on the remote, allowing the movie to resume.  Fang and Vanille running away from the cathedral into the sunset together is the only satisfaction he gets that night.

Two days later, Cloud sits at the kitchen table eating breakfast when it happens.  He has spent the night, which isn’t that unusual, and woken up significantly earlier than his beau, also not unusual. What is unusual is the way Squall pads in, absorbed in something on his tablet.  He’d been absorbed the night before, too, and Cloud had chalked it up to something work related.  He can be a bit of a workaholic. 

But, no.  Squall walks in and drops the tablet down in front of Cloud unceremoniously.  Cloud glances up at the other man.  He stands there expectantly, arms crossed over his chest, so Cloud picks up the machine and examines it.  On the screen is a calendar of some kind, but Cloud has no idea what it’s for.  He still thinks work, but that doesn’t explain why his boyfriend would then show him. 

“I made a schedule,” Squall announces, plopping himself down into the seat next to him. 

“A schedule?” Cloud repeats.  There’s still a serious disconnect going on in his mind because it’s like Squall exists in his own world speaking his own language sometimes. 

“A sex schedule,” Squall clarifies, and suddenly they’re on the same page.  The same really weird fantasy novel page where the universe is possibly exploding because what?

“A… _sex_ schedule,” he repeats again, a little blankly.  Squall’s jaw twitches, as sure a sign of irritation as any probably compounded by the embarrassment evident in the flush on his cheeks. 

“Look, so, I looked up how often most couples have sex, which is apparently on average three times a week – weirdly a lot, in my opinion, but whatever, what do I know – and since you can’t plan for it, but I know you want to, I did.”  He taps a finger against the screen.  “Thursday nights, nine p.m., Saturdays – mid-afternoon – and Mondays at eight after you get off work.  We can change the times if they’re not good for you, but I was working off your schedule, too.” 

Cloud stares at Squall.  There is a tight feeling growing in his chest – it might be love, but it’s a bit too early to tell.  “This is weirdly romantic,” he says.  “Really weirdly.”

“I can send it to you,” Squall adds, shrugging awkwardly.  “If you like it.”

“Please do, yes, I definitely like it.” Three times a week sounded like heaven.  And then a thought strikes him.  “It’s Thursday today.”

Squall gives him a small, knowing smile that answers Cloud’s unasked question even more effectively than words ever could. 

“Nine o’ clock,” Cloud says, and there’s a flutter of excitement growing in his chest as his particular pants problem picks itself back up again.

~~~

Nine o’ clock finds Cloud shuffling nervously outside the door to Squall’s apartment waiting for the man in question to answer the door.  He’s not sure why – he wasn’t nearly this nervous the last and only time they had sex.  And all things considered, it had been pretty fantastic.  His boyfriend might be mostly indifferent to the various carnalities of the human body, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t good at them. 

Maybe it’s the sudden, inexplicable pressure.  Excitement has been giving way to nerves all day as horror scenarios run through his brain.  What if he wastes this opportunity? What if he can’t get it up?  What if the demand to perform on a schedule is too much for him to take and he underperforms and turns Squall off of sex with him forever? 

The door opens and Squall stands there clad only in his necklace – which never seems to leave his body – and a pair of tight black boxer briefs that make Cloud instantly forget his dilemma.  He will definitely have no issues getting it up tonight, not with Squall looking like that.  The excitement rears back up just as fast as he does, and he shoots Squall a smile as his boyfriend steps out of the way for Cloud to enter.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he asks, gesturing to Squall’s body when the door is shut behind him.  Squall shrugs. 

“Maybe,” he replies.  Squall steps close to him and rests his hands on Cloud’s hips before leaning over to kiss him lightly, a press of lips against lips.  Cloud kisses back more insistently, his tongue licking against the line between Squall’s lips.  His hands come up to rest in his boyfriend’s hair as the kiss deepens. 

“Definitely,” Cloud says when they separate.  “You’re definitely trying to kill me.” 

Squall laughs.  “How do you want to do this?” he asks.  Cloud has been contemplating that all day – he’d figured the question was coming given this was also how Squall had started things last time. 

“Why don’t we head to the bedroom and work from there,” he answers.  It’s an agreeable idea to both of them.  Squall had made it perfectly clear last time that he is, of course, not keen on the idea of cleaning up any kind of living room mess; and Cloud is excited (in more ways than one) but he’s waited this long for this, so walking to the bedroom, necking the whole way there, is good enough for now.  Squall plops himself onto the bed and lays there watching as Cloud peels off his clothes.  He doesn’t strip down to his underwear – mainly because he tends not to wear any, so he goes straight for naked.  Cloud likes it a little breezy in his pants. 

He crawls onto the bed next to Squall and they lay there like that for a second, looking at each other.  Cloud doesn’t know if he laughs first or Squall laughs first, but then they’re both laughing because this is honestly kind of ridiculous. It’s not coming – hah – nearly as naturally as the last time, when they’d gotten straight to business with a couple quickly exchanged blowjobs. 

Well, hey, Cloud suddenly consoles himself, if he fucks up fucking tonight, there’s always Saturday.

Because they have a schedule.

“Are you going to do anything?” Squall finally asks. 

“Am I not allowed to take my time?” Cloud shoots back.  Squall pins him with his patented flat look.  The amount of disdain he can fit into two eyes is truly impressive.  Then, he shakes his head, pushes himself up and throws a leg over Cloud, straddling him.  Cloud wasn’t expecting that, but he isn’t complaining, especially not when his lover – he likes the sound of that a lot – leans down to kiss him again. 

Squall breaks the kiss, much to the blonde’s disappointment.  He doesn’t complain, though, because his boyfriend immediately scoots himself lower down on Cloud’s body, straddling his legs, and he thinks he has a good idea where this is going. 

“Do you want me to…?” he asks, gesturing at Cloud’s problem that is no longer confined to his pants. 

“Please do,” the blonde replies, nodding his assent furiously.  Squall, never one to disappoint – or take his time – leans back down and takes Cloud into his mouth all at once.  

A shock of pleasure curls through his belly, and Cloud moans out a, “ _Yes_.”  His hips jerk up when Squall swallows, and one hand fists the comforter beneath him, his grip tangling in the fabric.  Squall swallows again, and Cloud’s whole body shudders.  He lets out a groan that dissolves into babbling.  He’s not sure what he’s saying, but it’s very enthusiastic and definitely encouraging Squall not to stop under any circumstances.  This is, quite honestly, so much better than his hand has been and so worth the wait. 

Cloud doesn’t remember the heat, the wet, Squall’s tongue doing crazy things to him, being nearly this overwhelming last time.  His body spasms, sweat pooling on his neck.  His body is a balloon, filling with pleasure, reaching the tipping point of popping – except all of that is suddenly, instantly deflated when for reasons his foggy mind can’t comprehend, Squall pulls his mouth off.  Instead, his boyfriend’s head is resting against Cloud’s hip, his shoulders shaking, and it takes the blonde a second to realise that’s because Squall is, for whatever reason, laughing. 

“What…?” he asks blearily, something still not quite clicking about the situation.

Squall’s shaking harder now, and the laughter is getting louder.  “Don’t – don’t dirty talk, please,” he says between chortles.  “I – hah – oh my God.”  Cloud has never known dirty talk to elicit quite that reaction, and he frowns, thinking hard back to what he said.  Squall seems to sense this because without even lifting his head up from where it’s resting, he begins to answer the unasked question.

“I,” he begins, but cuts himself off with another quiet, rocking laugh.  He’s entirely collapsed on Cloud’s legs now, barely breathing, and honestly, Cloud didn’t even know Squall could laugh that much.  It’s still fairly contained, but it might as well be shrieking for his generally composed lover.  Cloud’s already turning red, and he doesn’t even know what he said yet.  His erection still stays strong in the face of adversity, though.  “I’m so – hah – so naughty,” he breaks off again, burying his face into Cloud’s hip as he convulses.  “I won’t be seeing Santa for years?  Really?”  He breaks down again, the sentence being too much for him to take, and Cloud’s whole body turns red. 

“I did not say that!” he protests, but he can feel Squall already shaking his head, rebutting.

“You did,” Squall barely squeezes out. 

Cloud has absolutely no memory of those words passing through his lips, and as such, refuses to believe what is obviously a slanderous, slanderous lie.  He nudges up with his hips, and Squall rolls off him without any more prompting, laying on his back at the bottom of the bed still laughing.  This is an affront to his dignity, and even his erection is beginning to flag from the red hot embarrassment over his skin. 

Cloud, however, has waited weeks for this moment – hours, really, if he’s being technical, which he isn’t – and he refuses to let the sex be ruined between them right here and right now.  He is not waiting another two days for this. 

Although, on a positive note, should things end here, it will only be two days before they do it again. 

Still, refusing to be deterred, Cloud grabs the lube from side table – flavoured lube, he notes, apple cinnamon, which is completely unexpected but also getting him fully back in the game at the idea of it – and slides down the bed.  Squall pays him no mind, still laughing, even as Cloud peels off the man’s tight black underwear and tosses them across the room.  Squall is, unsurprisingly, not hard at all, but that’s about to change. 

Cloud squeezes lube out into his hand and wastes no time at all reaching down and grabbing his boyfriend’s dick.  The laughter stops abruptly, twisting and morphing into a strangled whimper that brings a smirk of triumph to Cloud’s face.  Who’s laughing now?

“Cloud – fuck,” Squall breathes out as the blonde proceeds to start jacking him off with enthusiasm, just the right amount of pressure in his grip.  Cloud takes his time, pulling long, lazy strokes over his boyfriend’s quickly hardening dick.  He presses a quick kiss to Squall’s abs because they’re staring him in the face, smooth and beautiful and he can’t resist, before he removes his hand completely. 

“What the fuck,” is Squall’s eloquent response to that, and he glares down at Cloud, but the blonde merely smirks up at him and pushes him further back up the bed.

“I thought you weren’t that into sex,” Cloud shoots back, teasingly, which is met with an unimpressed, definitely irritated glare.

“Yeah, when I’m not in the middle of it,” he replies.  He looks like he’s going to say something else, but Cloud gets to work before he can.   He’s not as down to business direct as Squall is, so he doesn’t just take the thing into his mouth.  He licks a line over Squall’s dick, and then another one, and this apple cinnamon lube isn’t bad.  It’s actually kind of good, although he wouldn’t put it past Squall to have googled best tasting flavoured lubes before buying. 

Cloud keeps at it, teasing him, relishing in each frustrated moan he elicits.  They get muffled, and he glances up, satisfied to see that his boyfriend has one hand at his mouth, biting down on a knuckle in frustration.  He licks another line, and then follows Squall’s lead from earlier and swallows him down.  The noise Squall makes, the way his whole body seizes, is the most satisfying thing Cloud’s witnessed in weeks.  Since the last and only time he’d done this, in fact.

This is just a distraction, though, as he applies more lube to his hand and reaches for Squall’s ass.  They hadn’t gotten this far last time around – blowjobs were more than distracting enough, and Squall was pretty much only down for one round.  He pushes one finger in, and above him, that gets a reaction. 

“Fuck, do that again,” Squall hisses, and Cloud grins around him, but complies.  He preps his boyfriend as quickly as possible, and by the time he’s got three fingers inside Squall he’s had to let up on the blowjob, letting Squall’s dick fall out of his mouth as the younger man ruts impatiently back on his fingers.  Cloud pulls them out and slathers lube over his own, still enthusiastic dick.

“Ready?” he asks. 

“No, I’m actually not into this at all,” Squall replies flatly, and that is just entirely too much sarcasm for Cloud to take lying down.  He pushes Squall’s legs up and apart and slides in.  They both groan, and Squall reaches up to fist a hand in Cloud’s hair and pull his head down for a kiss.  Cloud had imagined taking this slow, but being inside Squall is even better than he’d envisioned.  He fucks hard and fast, reaching down with one hand to jerk Squall off. 

Cloud comes first, shuddering through his orgasm and letting out a cry.  Squall is still rutting up into his hand, so Cloud pulls out of him and commits all his remaining energy – what little bit he has left – into jerking Squall off until the man’s breath starts to hitch.  He whines out Cloud’s name as he comes, spilling all over both their bodies, which leaves the blonde with a growing sense of satisfaction in his chest as he collapses down on the bed next to him. 

They lay there like that in silence, until Squall turns his head to Cloud, meets his eyes, and says, deadpan but slightly irritated, “There’s sperm in my butt.”

Cloud laughs, albeit not as hard as Squall had earlier after the incident he’s never thinking about again.  That just about sums about his boyfriend’s entire personality, and things like that are why he thinks he might be falling in love.

“Clean it up later,” he says, pressing his body up close to Squall’s.  He throws a leg over the man.  Squall grumbles but makes no moves to leave. 

“Use a condom next time,” he settles on instead.  Cloud buries his head into Squall’s shoulder and nods.

“Sure.”  He smiles. “That was great,” Cloud adds.  “I can’t wait for Saturday.”  This schedule might be the best thing to ever happen to him.

Squall pats him reassuringly on the arm.  “I’m sure you can’t.”

~~~

Cloud is sitting at Zack’s apartment, hanging out in his friend’s kitchen with the man himself and Reno on a Monday evening when he glances down at the time and nearly has a heart attack. He jumps to his feet and grabs his things, waving out hasty goodbyes and trying to make his escape.  Zack, unfortunately, isn’t so easy to escape from.

“Spike, we barely hang out anymore,” the tall, black-haired man says, tugging on Cloud’s arm.  “Where are you running off to?” 

“Sorry, Zack – I have to get home,” he says.  He and Squall live together now, have for a couple months.  A pleasant few months.  “It’s sex night.”

“Sex night?” Reno perks up from where he’s been lazing on the couch.  Sex instantly grabs his attention always.  Cloud is incessantly glad they’ve long since stopped sleeping together because the minute his face appears he’s overcome with the slightly irrational urge to punch it. 

“If I’m late, we’re not having sex,” he adds, because it’s very important to get that across to Zack.  He should understand.  Cloud has, in fact, been late on occasion and gotten home to Squall head deep in a book having missed his opportunity. 

“If you’re late?” Zack asks, confused. 

“We have a schedule,” Cloud explains, trying to tug his arm free.  Zack looks even more confused.

“Wait…a sex schedule?” Reno asks, because the one thing the redhead is never lost on is sex. “You have an honest to God schedule for sex?  That you can’t be late for?”  His face is looking more punchable by the second. 

“Seriously?” Zack asks, understanding finally in his eyes.  “That’s…kinda weird, Cloud.”  Cloud finally yanks his hand free as Zack’s grip goes slack with surprise.  Cloud shoots him a dirty look, offended on both Squall’s behalf and his sex life’s.

“It might be weird,” he says, “But at least I’m getting laid regularly, unlike some people.” 

“Aw, low blow,” Zack whines, but Cloud manages to make his escape.  He rushes home, pushes the key in the lock, and when he finally manages to unlatch the door and step inside, he finds Squall sitting on the couch on his underwear watching TV.

Cloud grins.


End file.
